


In the Eggs Tonight

by captainflintsjacket



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Swearing, brief physical violence, caroling, scottish caroling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 18:40:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20440673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainflintsjacket/pseuds/captainflintsjacket
Summary: Based on the prompt: “Character A doesn’t feel the Christmas spirit but Character B, who lives above them, keeps playing Christmas carols really loud." The story is based on what supposedly used to be a Scottish tradition according to some less than reputable sources, so idk if it actually is, but! We did have a tradition close to this in Germany but using heated lead instead, so maybe it’s a real thing.





	In the Eggs Tonight

The first time you met Montgomery Scott, you could’ve strangled him. You could hear him hammering something metal through the thin walls of the apartment. Even your “soundproof” headphones couldn’t get the noise out of your skull. A swing every second as the clock ticked forward from 2:01 a.m. to 2:02, 2:03, 2:04

“The love of God,” you hissed and threw the covers off yourself. The way your blood was boiling, you didn’t even notice how cold the floor felt against your bare feet as you stomped out the door.

He only answered after the fifth knock, unable to hear the door over his own noise. When he finally poked his head out, you felt some of the anger leave you. Despite living in the building for a few months now, you’d never actually gotten know your neighbors and you were starting to regret it as you looked at the man in front of you, red hair sticking up in all directions, thick-rimmed glasses sliding down his nose. His gently curved jaw was covered in stubble. You wanted to run your fingers against the roughness. At least, until he opened his mouth.

“Well, hello. Didn’t think anyone else’d be up at this hour.”

“Pretty sure half the building’s awake with all that hammering you’re doing.”

“Aye, what can I say? I do love getting hammered.” He smiled at you, hoping the joke would lighten the air, but your scowl only deepend. “Alright I’m sorry, lass. I was working on a new project and got a bit carried away, but I could be convinced to keep it quiet if you tell me your name.”

You remained unimpressed. “How about you keep it quiet and I won’t tell the property manager you’ve got an open flame in your apartment.”

“I haven’t got an open flame.”

“No? Then what’s that?” You pointed to a the metal contraption in the living room. It was currently shooting a small flurry of sparks onto the carpet, which was beginning to smoke.

“Shite,” your neighbor said, bolting back into his apartment to deal with the mess and stumbling over a few stray scraps of metal. You couldn’t help but chuckle as you turned back to your apartment. “I’m Scotty, by the way,” he called after you. “It was a pleasure to-” whatever he was going to say was lost in a string of curses as the fire alarms started going off.

The second time you met Scotty was an accident. Whether or not it was a happy one was still up for debate. You were coming home from a rather unspectacular date with your boyfriend, who seemed oblivious. He was always oblivious.

You stood in the doorway to your apartment, trying to keep him from coming inside as you fumbled with your keys and your thoughts, wondering if there was an easy way to break up with someone. He, of course, couldn’t tell anything was wrong as he tried to duck around you.

“Come on, babe. I want a beer.”

“You had three at the restaurant,” you muttered.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” you sighed. “I just…I think-”

“You think? That’s a new one.” He tried to duck around you again, but you put a hand to his chest.

“Yes, Rob, I think. I think you should leave.”

“Fine, I’ll grab a beer for the road, then.”

“No, I think it’s better if you don’t.”

“God, stop being such a bitch. I’m getting a fucking beer.” Rob grabbed your arm hard enough to make you wince. Almost as soon as he grabbed you he was yanked off.

“Oi, mate. Think she said it’s time for you to go.” You had to admit, the leather jacket made Scotty look tough, despite being half a head shorter than Rob.

“Don’t think it’s any of your business, Braveheart.”

You tried to worm your way between the two before their testosterone got the best of them. Before you could get a word in, Rob pushed you out of the way, sending you back first into the wall. Your head cracked back against it, sending a ringing through your ears. The hallway spun as you blinked the world back into focus in time to see Scotty pull back and swing a punch at Rob, who swung back twice as hard. Scotty crumpled in front of you.

He woke up on a couch that definitely wasn’t his. It was actually comfortable and smelled faintly like flowers. Scotty imagined his smelled like week-old Guinness.

“Oh thank God,” you said, setting a cup of tea on the coffee table as Scotty sat up. “I was starting to think I might have to call an ambulance.”

“Glad you didn’t. My mates’d have my hide if they find out I was in another fight.”

You bit your bottom lip, holding an ice pack out to him. “Wasn’t much of a fight, was it?” Scotty cracked a smile, laughing so hard he forgot how much his head hurt.

The two of you met many times after that, sharing stories and beers and occasionally couches if you fell asleep during whatever Netflix binge you were running through at the moment. For the most part, you were willing to forgive Scotty’s midnight mechanics since the two of you became friends.

Tonight was different. It was your first Christmas alone - not just since you and Rob broke up. Your parents had booked a couples cruise for Christmas and would be partying in Antigua, leaving you by yourself in your small apartment. You hadn’t even bothered to put up any decorations, figuring there was no one to impress. Instead, you threw yourself into work, finishing your third straight 14 hour work day and looking forward to nothing more than a good night’s sleep on Christmas Eve.

You were just drifting off when the sound of bagpipes drifted through your wall. With a huff, you rolled over, sandwiching your head between pillows. The sound was barely even muffled. You reached for your phone to text Scotty to keep it down. You got a one word response:

Scrooge.

The music quieted, though, and you sank back into your bed, revelling in the silence before it was pierced with a round of raucous laughter. You stared up at the ceiling, listening to glasses clink together, the sound of bagpipes still in the background. With a groan, you rolled out of bed and pulled on the first pair of jeans you found. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.

That’s how you ended up in front of Scotty’s apartment, trying to ignore the way your heart beat faster when he shouted your name excitedly. You spared him a joke about the sweater he wore, bright red with a T. Rex in a Santa hat, as you entered his apartment.

It was a mess of lights and decoration and half-finished projects scattered around the living room. Scotty quickly introduced you to his friends before handing you a cup of (spiked) cider. “You’re just in time. We were just about to break out the eggs.”

“Eggs,” you asked, eyeing him warily.

“Aye, it’s an old tradition. You crack an egg and it tells you yer future.” You bit back a laugh, not wanting to hurt Scotty’s feelings. Excitement was written all over his face as he plopped back on the couch, moving a stack of paper plates to make room for you. “Why don’t you go first, love? Ye just prick the egg with this pin and drop it into the water and wait to see what shape the whites take.”

“I don’t think I’m drunk enough for this yet,” you teased as you reached for an egg. Still, you grabbed the glass of water and pin. Scotty held his hands over yours, showing you how to poke through the shell without breaking the egg. Then, you dropped it into the water and watched the whites ooze out. To you, it looked like a mess, but you heard Scotty hum approvingly beside you.

“An arch. Means you’ve got some conflict at work or with yer family. That why you’re spending Christmas alone?”

You stared at Scotty, trying to tell if he was joking. You hadn’t told him about your parents’ cruise, but you were hesitant to believe in the clairvoyant powers of an egg. “Shut up,” you teased, handing the pin to the blond man in the armchair next to you. The cider must’ve been stronger than you thought because you already couldn’t remember his name. Kirk maybe?

Slowly, you went around the room. Kirk saw a snake in his egg whites, which Scotty said was a sign of a happy sex life. Bones, much like you, didn’t see anything in his egg, but Scotty swore up and down there was a boat, a symbol of prosperity in life and work. Finally, the pin made its way back to Scotty himself, who sat, nose against the glass, as he waited for the whites to leak out.

Even you couldn’t deny the shape it took: like an anchor, sinking and swirling as the egg whites mixed with the water. Scotty’s eyes drifted over to you, then snapped back to the glass when he saw you looking back. You thought the tips of his ears grew pink, but it could’ve just been the alcohol in his system.

“What’s that one,” you asked.

“Hm,” Scotty looked at you again briefly before looking away. “Oh, horseshoe. Just standard stuff. Luck and all that.” His ears definitely grew pinker.

Bones scoffed. “Please, I grew up in Georgia. I’ve seen my fair share of horseshoes and that ain’t one. That’s an anchor.”

“Och no, that’s not..It’s, um. It’s a….a horseshoe. You’re just too drunk to see it over there.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m not drunk, and I can see it’s an anchor. Is it a bad sign?”

Scotty shook his head. “No, not bad.”

“Then what’s it mean?” You nudged Scotty gently with your elbow when he remained silent. “Come on, Scotty. Not like you to be shy.”

He ran a hand down his face as he leaned back next you on the couch. He wrestled with himself before saying, “It means hope.”

“Wow,” you said dryly, “how unfortunate for you. I’ll pray for you and all your hope.”

“It’s also a sign of soulmates.” Scotty let his eyes drift over to you again and your breath caught in your throat. “That your life is anchored to someone else’s. Steadfast love.”

Scotty slipped a hand under your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek. If you had any doubts about what he meant, they evaporated when he pressed his lips against yours. You kissed him back perhaps too desperately, having wondered how his lips would feel every time you fell asleep together on your couch. Every time he wandered to your door in nothing but a towel his shower wouldn’t run hot water.

An uncomfortable cough broke you out of the moment and Scotty pulled away, ears red as his sweater with a smile brighter than the tree in the corner. You matched his smile, burying your face against his shoulder to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks. You could still taste peppermint on your lips.

Jim was the first to break the silence, picking an egg up and turning it in his hands. “I think I just found a new pickup line.” The room fell back into comfortable laughter as you leaned against Scotty. He put his arm around you and you felt less alone than you had any Christmas before.


End file.
